The midshipman pointed towards the dimly-seen submerged arch.
“Can you swim?” he said.
“Of course. Pretty well.”
“And dive?”
“Yes.”
“Then my notion is that we take it as coolly as we can till we think it’s a suitable time. Then we’ll strip, make a couple of bundles of our clothes, go in as near to that arch as we can, and then try to dive under and out to the daylight.”
Aleck raised the lanthorn to bring its dim light full upon his companion’s face, gazing at him hard as if in doubt of his sanity. For the words were spoken as calmly and coolly as if he had been proposing some ordinary jump into clear water at a bathing-place.
But he only saw that the speaker’s countenance was perfectly unruffled, and his next words convinced him that he was speaking in all seriousness.
“Well, don’t look so horrified,” he said, half laughingly. “You haven’t been bragging, have you? Don’t say you can’t swim?”
“Oh, I can swim easily enough,” said Aleck, impatiently; “but suppose one rose too soon, right up amongst those rugged rocks, with the sea-wrack hanging down in long strips ready to strangle us?”